


The Restaurant in the Strip Mall

by sublimeWaves



Series: 25 EXO Challenges [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublimeWaves/pseuds/sublimeWaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation over heard in one of his classes is why he was now alone as he sits in front of an Asian strip mall late at night where no one would recognize him in his dark car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Restaurant in the Strip Mall

**Author's Note:**

> Emotion: Obsession  
> Word: Spice  
> Theme: Reality

It’s nine o’ clock on a Thursday evening when the boy decides it is safe to leave his car. He has sat in the cold for about an hour in a parking space that is located on the far end of a strip mall. The lights and sounds of his car with the heater on would have brought him notice by the crowd of shoppers that would pass by to his store, he had made the decision to keep his car off. He didn’t want to be labelled as ‘the creeper who is sitting in a parking lot alone’.  


The shoppers that passed by were mostly older than him. They most probably had gotten off of work and buying groceries for their families or elderly couples. Very few seemed to be his age which he was thankful for and no one he knew. He had driven an hour from his college so that no one would recognize him.  


These types of stores that serve the more authentic Asian goods then opposed to regular supermarkets were far and few between. When the boy had come to the United States he was surprised at the amount of Asian food was and was not available. Authentic Korean restaurants seemed to be hard to find. Korean food, although delicious and blankets the boy in a longing for home, is not why he is here.  


Currently, Structures would classify as his most boring class. His lecturer is a balding Indian man with tired eyes and his classmates are usually sleep. The lecture is at eight in the morning, the only time the class was offered and that that fit his schedule, which in college is the definition of hell. Two boys, classmates of his, sit in the back of the room right behind him and all they do it talk to each other. The boys finds this irritating. They speak in hushed Mandarin. They think their conversation are private due to this, but the boy knows… a bit of what they are saying. He took four semesters of Mandarin in order to expand his job prospects in the future. It was a hard decision but he had made it through it with an intermediate grasp on the language. The two boys chattering away keep him awake as his eyes threaten to close. He cowers behind them trying to mindlessly look like he is taking notes.  


A month ago the boy over hears an interesting conversation.  


“What do you want to eat tomorrow?”  


“Night?”  


“Night, after studying.”  


“The taco place, like usual?”  


“I’m tired of tacos.” The boy whines.  


“You can never be tired of tacos.”  


“Well I am.”  


“Freak.”  


“I am not!”  


“Yeah, you are!”  


“I’m not! We _always_ eat there.”  


“What do you want then?”  


".... I don't know."  


“You don’t know?”  


“No.”  


“You sound like my girlfriend right now.”  


“Ugh.”  


“What?”  


There’s a moment of silence.  


“I want Hot pot.”  


This makes the other boy stop and slowly turn to his friend. “Hot pot?”  


“Yeah. I miss it. It’s better than tacos.”  


“…”  


“Admit it.” The two smile.  


“Yeah, it’s better.”  


This conversation planted an idea into the boy’s head. An idea that refused to go away, stubbornly attaching itself on the folds of the boy’s brain. He needed to go. It was all he thought about.  


In class? _Hot pot_.  


Showering? _Hot pot_.  


Sleeping? _Hot pot_.  


Pizza? _Hot pot_.  


Talking to Jongdae? _Hot pot_.  


However, when the chance came up to invite his friends to go with him the words never came out. The boy didn’t naturally talk all that much and most certainly didn’t ask favors from them. He knew, knew they would have been willing to go but the worries of being a burden washed over him every time he thought of even bringing the topic up.  
He had stood in front of Jongdae, once, with the words about to jump from his tongue before grasping them back and forcing him to shove them down his throat. This caused a coughing it that greatly worried his friend.  


He had gathered his courage only this morning to go alone to a Hot pot place. Hot pot was a more communal type of meal which worried the boy greatly. All worries about being alone had momentarily been thrown out of the window when he had passed his Materials test that day. Which was why he was now alone as he sits in front of an Asian strip mall late at night where no one would recognize him in his car.  


The boy was dressed in dark clothing, brown hair hidden under a black beanie, making him feel like a fiend as he crosses the dark parking lot. His hands shake as he opens the door to the restaurant, nerves coming to a boil. Last chance to leave and hide under his covers… His breathing constricts, his mind on overload.  


He takes the plunge.  


The restaurant is dark with M-pop playing in the background. The space holds red cloth booths packed together with a bar that is silver and sleek, creating contrast that is almost an eye-sore in the calm, warm, and inviting atmosphere of the restaurant. The boy tugs his beanie down so his bangs cover his eyes a bit and shuffles over to the hostess stand which is void of a worker. The barman is staring at him. The boy keeps his eyes on the ground until black loafers come into view.  


“How many?” The elderly host asks in English.  


“One.” The boy says automatically without thinking.  


“Alone?” The man chuckles. “Right this way.”  


The boy is mortified as he walks past Asian families, couples, and a couple of white foodies. Some look up from their little worlds contained in each booth to glimpse at him. The boy wishes they would go blind.  


His table is in the back corner with no one immediately next to him except the kitchen and the boy is thankful as he slips in the booth. The host immediately leaves. Five seconds of nerves has him fishing out his phone and gripping it like a security blanket. He is seated in a booth but cannot feel comfortable enough in this environment to slouch.  


He’s browsing the web for ‘What to do in a restaurant alone?’ when his waiter shows up. It is not the old host but oh does the boy wish it was. Wisps of soft pink hair with a deep side sweep falls right over eyes that ooze innocence. His gorgeous smile pulls up his eyes shaping them into crescent moons. The guy has a face that makes the boy think he is younger. High school if he was to guess, but the boy, himself, is recognized as a full five years younger than his actual age on a daily basis. He doesn’t put much stock into looks.  


“Hello!” The waiter says as he stares into the boy’s soul via his eyes. Air hitches somewhere into the tubes connecting his mouth to his lungs. “I’m LuHan, can I get you anything to drink?”  


The waiter’s lovely voice is deep, so the boy is thinking twelfth grade but has a sort of sound of a soothing melody like a lullaby. It’s accented but it is not heavy and is clear. His skin is flawless, the boy notices enviously. It looks soft and so very touchable.  


“Are you well?” The pink haired man asks, snapping the boy of whatever headspace he was in.  


“Water!” The boy quickly exclaims. He wanted a coke but that wasn’t what came out and the boy is used to articulating what he wants. “Please.”  


“One water.” The waiter is smiling again as starts to walk off towards the kitchen. He stops and spins, spins, back towards the boy and places the menu he is holding on the table. “Sorry! Here’s your menu.”  


The boy skims the small menu, but sees no writing utensils so that he can mark his order. If he has to verbalize everything to this waiter, he may go into a full blown panic attack. He couldn’t even give his drink order right! How was he supposed to do this?  


He could sneak out the front. Just run for it, past all the eyes that are on him, away from the waiter. There’s a couple, a couple booths down, that have been eyeing him. Shifting uncomfortably, he tries to take deep breaths and looks at the menu again.  


There’s a special being advertised on the first page and being the broke university kid that the boy is, he’ll take it. Also it will mean only having to point at the menu and no sounds will be expected to come out of his mouth. He almost wants to congratulate himself on his ingeniousness.  


“Have you made a decision?” The waiter has one of those voices that let’s each listener know just by its sound that the waiter has a smile on his face. Unfortunately, the boy had not been expected it and was spooked, whipping his head towards the aisle. The waiter drops the smile and backs up, eyes growing a bit wide. The boy wishes his eyes would go back the way they are so he wouldn’t be so caught up in them. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”  


The smile returns. Not trusting his mouth, he smiles in response to reassure the waiter. The pink haired man blinks, long lashes slowly sliding towards his cheeks and returning in place, before he lets himself speak. “Have you made a decision?”  


The boy points to the special. The waiter nods, not writing down anything. “Original or Spicy?” Again, the boy points to the spicy bowl. “Alright, and the meat? Lamb’s a good choice!” There’s the smile again that does funny things to the boy’s stomach.  


“You do know how this works, right?” The waiter asks as he gestures to the bowl in front of the boy. He fiddles with some switches with ease. The boy nods his head, a bit longer than probably necessary. “Good, it’ll be out shortly.”  


Reaching for his phone, the boy continues to read the article from before. Only the couple a few tables down can see him and the other waiter that emerges from the kitchen from time to time. That waiter is the one who pours the broth into the boy’s bowl as it heats and the boy isn’t nearly as jumpy as before with this waiter.  


Getting used to the feeling of being at the restraint alone, some of the anxiety he had felt earlier has settled into only a quiet voice in the back of his head instead of a loud one.  


He keeps an eye out around his surroundings, hoping to not get spooked again. It was ridiculous because there isn’t much that scares the boy in terms of movies or stories but a waiter in a Hot pot restaurant is what is really scary to him.  


Soft, fluffy, pink hair emerges from the double doors to the kitchen holding his food. All the ingredients are there in a single bowl, nicely presented. The waiter bends over and places the food on the table. In that moment, the boy realizes he can’t remember the waiter’s name due to being in such an anxious state when he had introduced himself. “Enjoy!”  


The waiter is gone as quickly as he had come.  


To say the food was delicious would be an understatement. It hit the boy in just the right way. The spices were blended perfectly and just the right amount when soaked up by the added ingratiates. There was something calming about achieving a short time goal of his. He was happy, he was content. The food may have only been average in terms of Hot pot compared to what he has had but it didn’t matter that moment. If asked he would say it was the best.  


His waiter doesn’t come by at any moment during his meal, which the boy is thankful for. He would think the boy strange if had looked at how the boy was enjoying his food so much. Noodles falling out of his mouth couldn’t be a pretty sight either. Delightfully filled, he sets his chopsticks down and closes his eyes.  


“Was it that good?” The waiter’s voice asks. Eyes flying open, the boy turns to the soft pink haired man. That smile was back and the boy can’t help but take in the sight of the delicate looking man. Crinkles around the eyes and his head tilted slightly to the side, the man looked a bit too cute for the boy to handle.  


Nodding, the boy sits straight up as he turns to the waiter. The waiter giggles, which is such a beautiful sound. It also is contagious as the boy feels the corners of his lips move upwards. A few seconds pass and the boy realizes the waiter is kind of just staring at him and awkwardly standing next to his table. The boy can’t help but stare back.  
Something breaks the silence when the waiter jerks a bit and starts walking towards the front of the restaurant. “I’ll get you your bill.”  


Confused, the boy pulls out his wallet from his back pocket. He specifically brought cash with him so that he didn’t have to wait longer on a card. This also minimalized human contact with any waiters. At least that was the thought before he had arrived and was wondering if he should pay with card so that he could encounter the waiter one more time.  


The waiter doesn’t give him time to think, immediately coming back and placing the check on the side of the table. The boy nods, in what he hopes comes across as a thank you, and looks at the amount. He has the exact amount in cash and without thinking pulls it out in record timing with no fiddling around. He applauds himself internally for not looking like a fool. The waiter is wearing a huge smile, bigger than before.  


“You look the best when you smile.” The waiter says and the boy almost drops his wallet. Feeling his face getting hot and knowing he looks like a tomato by now, he keeps his eyes downward. His mind is screaming at him to say something. The voice that eventually comes out is small.  


“Thank you.”  


He hands the bill and cash to the waiter. There is no way on earth that the boy can look the waiter in the eyes anymore. Delicate fingers slide past his as he takes the money. He is about to leave to process the cash when he stops and looks straight at the boy.  


_“Come visit me again soon.”_  


The pounding in the boy’s chest is deafening as the waiter disappears quickly into the kitchen. Pulling out a generous tip, the boy puts the money on the table and practically runs out of the restaurant within the next thirty seconds. He can barely breathe as he rushes through the dark, empty parking lot to his car.  


He can finally breathe only when he is driving five minutes later at a stoplight five minutes away from the strip mall.  


There’s an internal debate on whether he should go back or not to the restaurant in the following days. The embarrassment and anxiety that fills his thoughts are enough to make him hesitate but something wants him to go back and at least say something to the man. The waiter fills his day dreams to the point that some of his friends notice.  


“You okay? Minseok?” Jongdae asks out of concern. The boy waves him off. He can handle himself and anyone knowing about his romantic life is too anxiety inducing to ever say anything.  


It takes courage, and the craving of hot pot, for him to gather the courage and go back to the restaurant again. This time, he prepares himself. Wearing a nice coordinated outfit and spending extra time on his hair, he feels like he is going on a date. He goes by himself on a Thursday night.  


The waiter isn’t there.  


The disappointment that fills the boy is something he can’t even describe. There shouldn’t feel like a loss, but his heart is telling him otherwise. He didn’t even know the waiter for fuck’s sake.  


He goes again, twice on Thursday and four times on other days, but never sees the waiter again. It was his last semester of college and he moves away from the city after the semester ends.  


Sometimes, when he is alone and reminiscing on random events in his life, the waiter comes back to mind. Him and that hair and that beautiful smile.  


Every now and then he thinks about what might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Hello! This is my first fic for EXO. I have been a huge KPOP fan for ages but always avoided EXO because of what other people told me about them but I gave them a chance last August and fell in love.  
> This story is based off my own experiences while going to a hotpot place in the city I had just moved to. I usually don’t write about something that happened to me so this was a bit weird to write. I still think about that waiter every now and again (He was so adorable!).  
> Oh well…  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
